


Spun Sugar

by FancifulRivers



Category: Death Note
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you kiss him, his lips taste like sugar.</p>
<p>(Light can't get enough of L.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spun Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I do not and never will own Death Note.
> 
> Another AO3 story? And one that I think is a bit too explicit for FFN, so I suppose it will have to stay here only, oh well.

When you kiss him, his lips taste like sugar. Your fingers knot in the fabric of the ridiculously baggy shirt he wears as you yank him forward, not caring as he crashes into your lap, his toenails scratching against your lower legs. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and you can't stifle the moan.

"Do you like that, Light-kun?" he asks solemnly, his customary monotone a little roughened, a little shaky around the edges. The knowledge that he's just as affected as you are makes your trousers feel tight, makes your blood run that much hotter. One hand comes up to cup the back of his head, fingers buried into the fluff of dark hair, as you pull him even closer, devouring his mouth. 

"You know I do," you finally manage to answer, coming up for air like you're drowning. You don't know how this happened. One moment you were arguing (again) about whether or not you're Kira (there's an eighty-three percent chance today), and the next, your mouth's on his and his sugar cubes are spilled on the table top, and there's no going back.

"Come on," you coax, dragging yourself to a standing position. The detective comes with you, lanky legs and bony frame curled around you like a particularly loose-limbed frog, and you deposit him on the bed with a slight bounce. He looks up at you, thumb tucked in the corner of his mouth, and while the rest of his face is as impassive as ever (save the slight swollen cast to his bottom lip), his eyes burn with the intensity you know yours mirror.

"Do you want to?" you whisper, suddenly uncertain, your cock throbbing against the fabric of your pants, your hands shaking, and he nods.

"Yes," he says, and you feel like you're falling as you clamber onto the bed, feeling his hands roam everywhere, slender fingers pushing and prodding at your belt buckle. You can't stop kissing him, raining kisses down on his mouth, his chin, the sweet curve of his neck. He slides down the bed as your pants entangle around your knees, and when he licks a broad stripe across the head of your dick, your head falls back and the groan that echoes in the darkened sanctity of the room doesn't sound human.

"What about the cameras," you pant, and you can  _feel_ him grin around his mouthful as he lets you pop free, licking his lips with a contented hum.

"I am the only one who sees the footage from this room, Light-kun," he replies smugly, and returns to trying to swallow all of you like a particularly luscious popsicle. You don't know what to do, so your hands latch onto his bony shoulders as he bobs his head, inky strands of hair splayed across the expanse of your thighs. When you come, your hips spasm and you bite your lip, spilling everything down his willing, eager throat.

"Sorry," you try to say, but he shakes his head, disengaging and opening his mouth a little so you can see the traces still coating his tongue.

"Eighty three point five chance," he tells you, sliding back up the bed, his shirt scrunched up past his ribs and his jeans riding low on his hipbones, erection trying to peek over the waistband.

"God damn it," you say, but it feels formulaic. When you unzip his jeans, his cock fills your hand, and the warmth is enticing. Crouched between his legs, you let your lips brush the tip, let his pre-cum glaze your lips, and the moan that tries to hide behind his lips makes you feel triumphant.

"Please," he whispers, and you settle your fingers around the base, your head sinking down. His hands fist in your hair, tugging you gently into position. It's hard to remember anymore he's the detective in charge of catching you, that you can't see any way out of killing him later (but you don't want to, you  _can't_ ), and he tastes so good you can't help but moan along with him until he floods your mouth, drops escaping from the corners of your lips and trailing down your chin. It's almost sweet, like the rest of him, and you swallow reflexively.

"Eighty two percent," he tells you with a long, shaky breath, and you curl up next to him, feeling the slender contours of his body conform to yours. You're both still half naked, but can't bring yourselves to care. 

"At least it's gone down," you say with a snort, and kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you liked? I've not really written explicit scenes very much.


End file.
